Chapter 1 - Summer

Elaine balks slightly at the sight of an anthropomorphic gear - apparently also named Gear, which is quite a leap of imagination from whoever named them, - but gathers herself and nods in greeting, warily glancing at the machine from time to time but trying not to seem too suspicious. "Hello, Gear. And welcome back, Issac; I am glad to see you still have all of your integral organs. What were you doing while we were inside?.."

Elaine reaches into her pocket to present him the address she acquired, but then pauses her motion halfway in hesitation: "I did discover the directions we needed, but I don't think it is particularly safe to discuss these things in the open, especially now that it's approaching daylight. Should we catch up on the way, to attract less attention?"

"Aye Elaine, agreed. Gear, is there someplace you recommend where we can gather without prying eyes?"

Glancing at the sky as they move on, "Not to worry anyone, but there is a fleet of air-skiffs heading this way, escorting a larger air-galleon. I'm sure that won't be troublesome at all." Issac quips.

"Indeed... now we are... wanted, I thought I'd make myself less... memorable."

Sans glances to spot the aerial fleet, but does not see it - then he turns to look at Gear, curious to see what it will respond, and how sophisticated its understanding and speech abilities are.

They gear thinks for a moment, then responds. "I know a place."





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A half hour later and the party finds themselves in a small 'park' beside one of the towns gurgling streams. The garden is walled in by cracked brick, and can easily be crossed in just a few, long strides.

A single, tall tree casts shade from the corner of the enclosure.

Aloys leans against the stone wall, sharpening his rapier with a *whisp, whisp, whisp* against his wet stone.

Mathis sits beneath the tree, puffing his pipe and glaring at the gear.

The gear stands staring at the stream, and has spoken since you all arrived here.

The place is obviously safe from prying eyes and eavesdropping.

Sans sits down and removes his mask, feeling the relief of the fresh air on his ruined face - but also the new, strange sensation of being more vulnerable without it...

A mask plays strange tricks on one's mind... Only wore it for a few hours, and already I feel more protected when it is on my face...

He looks across at the clockwork automaton, curious to see if the sudden change in his aspect will confuse it.

"Er... Issac, how can we be sure our metal friend here isn't set to... I don't know, stab us in our sleep? We're taking quite a risk taking it with us... especially in the delicate predicament we're in?..."

"Fair point Sans, I'm hopeful though that the enem... well, bodyguard of my enemy is, hopefully, a friend."

Gesturing at the paperwork container, "And let me tell you, I found quite the trove on our enemy, a Mr. M. Gérard Héroux, including a note about the missing junior Gold Coat."

The gear turns their head. "Despite what many think, my kind have free will. I would need a good reason to stab you, in particular, over anyone else," they say to Sans.

"That's blasphemy," Mathis scowls. "Only the 'Maker gives free will, and even then, we all run the course we were wound to run."

Looking at Mathis, "Aye, and who's to say the 'Maker didn't give these machines free will too? You said it yourself, we're *wound* to run our course. Who knows that experience better then a Gear?" making a spinning circle motion with his finger.

"This philosophizing is making me thirsty.". Issac pulls out his flask, "Gear, which variant are you? The kind that pisses alcohol or oil"?

Mathis turns his scowl on Issac, but doesn't challenge his pontification.

"I have the good fortune of my secretions being an oil based compound--though I wouldn't call it 'pissing.' Regardless, the compound can have the same destructive quality on the human mind as fermented beverages."

After answering Issac, the gear turns back to 'staring off.'

"O.K., well and good," Aloys interrupts, "but what's our next step. Seems like there are a couple options here."

He wipes his blade down with a rag, then sheaths it. "Those ships Issac saw could be Captitaine Alarie and any number of lackeys."

"Ha! This clockwork marvel's got quite a mouth on him!" he chuckles, hearing the automaton's response. "Oh well, if we are to trust him..." he shrugs.

Then turning to Issac, "What is it you learned about Jullien, the Gold Coat that the traitor Capitaine sent North?"

Elaine remains quiet where she is perched atop a low stone wall, hands folded over knees and a pensive look on her face. She seems briefly interested in the conversation about Gear, but her expression sours when Mathis raises the topic of machines and souls - clearly philosophical debates are not to her taste right now. She then murmurs something probably not very flattering about men and alcohol, and sighs in relief when Aloys turns the topic back on track.

"M. Gérard Héroux," she repeats to herself, committing the name to memory while simultaneously trying to remember if she has ever heard it before. "Who exactly is he, Issac? I don't recall having a man with this name as my enemy. Then again, I also didn't expect half of the Gold Coats to be my enemies either..."

With a frown, on second thought, Issac puts his flask away.

"Outside of being a criminal of some note, the man is a mystery to me as well, but he clearly holds a grudge against the Gold Coats." At that, Issac takes out the documents he found in the safe, saving the note about Jullien for last, and hands them to his companions to look over.

"Gear, do you know anything of monseur Héroux or the Gold Coat Jullien? Perhaps their whereabouts?"

The gear turns to Issac with a grinding noise. "Some nights, when I wanted excitement, I would sit on the edge of the roof to do my staring. Those nights, I could hear M. Heroux take meetings, sometimes," they say.

"If I cared for gambling, I'd put money on Heroux only caring about wealth. If it makes you feel better, it's likely your brother's kidnapper and / or murder is not personal to him. I know nothing about Jullien's whereabouts, unfortunately for him."

Aloys looks over the documents. "Well," he says. "Another mention of this Dyers Guild."

"Guilds have warehouses, chapter houses, and the like," he offers.

"Indeed..."

He addresses Gear directly, "How well do you know this town, my Philosophe Mecanique? Have you heard of the Dyers Guild, and where they operate from? Perhaps your former employer asked you to escort him there, in the past?"

The gear shrugs and addresses Sans, though they never turn from staring at the water. "Unfortunately, I was escorted from the estate where I was located directly to my rooftop post. I only know this park because I could see it from my rooftop," they turn and point to the left. Anyone who follows the metal finger can see the gambling den peeking above the lower, surrounding rooftops.

"I enjoy all the questions I'm getting, and wish I could be of more useful. I'm sorry I did not get to kill anyone in more helpful places during my time as a crime lords sentry." If a voice could frown, Gear's would be.

Sans nods to the construct. "In that case, we will find the Guild together..." Hmm... this killing machine might be hard to control... bringing death seems to be deeply rooted in its sense of duty... he ponders.
He looks at Gear. "I want you to take a good look at us, my metal friend. I don't know how you would do it, but... remember our faces, our clothing. We are NOT the ones to kill, agreed?"

Then he turns to his comrades, "Now... My guess is... the Dyers will need the running water of a stream or river, for their trade. And a river is harder to hide than a warehouse, don't you think?"

He stands up, "we find a river, and it might lead us to this mysterious Guild..."

"Do we actually want to find the Guild?" Elaine frowns at the ground, absent-mindedly dangling her feet against her fence perch. "From the sounds of it, they aren't exactly on our side. And while it might be worth to gather information on them, perhaps we can start it with some less..." She waves her fingers in the air. "Less dangerous methods. Willingly coming into the lion's den is a bit too bold for a group of essentially fugitives, isn't it?"

She grimaces, belatedly realizing how her lack of desire to look for Jullien might seem. "Not that I don't think we should avoid them altogether, of course. But we have the address of that informant woman, right? She might be able to tell us where they operate, not to mention generally shine some light on the situation. I have to admit, I still don't entirely understand what is happening here; or how we are connected to it, aside from being the ones to learn of the Captaine's deal. But hunting us down seemed like an overreaction..." She almost pouts at the last sentence.

"Yes, gathering more information is probably a prudent move. Let's go see the informant, and hear what we can learn from her. What leverage do you think we should try? " he asks his companions. "Is money what makes her tick? Or do we scare her?... Maybe pretend we are from the Guild and need more of her special kind of trade?"

"Whatever the approach, my skills are at your disposal," Aloys says as he rolls a lockpick over the backs of his knuckles.

Mathis continues his pensive mood, drawing smoke from his pipe in slow, long puffs.

The Gear gives their assent, that they will be coming along as well. "If you'll have me," they say. "I still looking forward to the excitement."

Elaine reluctantly leads the group through the quickly waking up streets of the town, trying to navigate their way to the informant's address without attracting too much attention from the local guards. It's a bit of a struggle to be discreet, considering that they are a group of five armed people and a gear, but she tries to keep to the alleyways and backstreets as much as possible to minimize the risks - and although it causes some navigational issues in the process, at least they aren't stopped by law enforcement before reaching their destination.

Cutlers Row turns out to be a high class street, glaringly so - the houses are sturdier and richly decorated, the pavement is clear of any trash, there are even pots with flowers and a small fountain surrounded by elegant metal benches, its water relatively clean and shining in the morning sun. It might not be as impressive as the streets of the capital, but for Wichop Crossroads this street seems like the height of luxury, and fancy sighs of antique shops, jewelry stores and mechanic workshops pepper the houses.

The building Julia Sardou is supposedly located in is a tall green house with a stained glass window, behind which one might see space with a vaguely office-like feeling to it: a large room lined with bookcases and kitschy red sofas. A large bronze sign hangs above its heavy door, indicating it to be Malet & Magnier Money Lenders & Investors in a font so cursive it's actually slightly hard to read. It looks well-maintained, so certainly the company doesn't lack in funds - or at least have enough of them to project wealth to attract potential partners.

...And it certainly doesn't look like a place either of the musketeers (or the gear) would visit on their own.